


Confirmation

by May



Category: Death Note
Genre: Begging, M/M, Oral Sex, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/May/pseuds/May
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mello decides Matt needs a slight break from listening in on Misa. Matt needs to really want to, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confirmation

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'Begging' square on my Kink_Bingo square.

Confirmation

“So, where have you been?” demanded Mello. It was never ‘asking’ with Mello, always ‘demanding’.

Matt slumped in a battered armchair in the hideout the two boys had taken to since Mello had blown up his mafia base.

“Watching Misa Amane,” he said, rifling through his pockets, extracting a packet of cigarettes. “You know that.”

Matt flipped open the pack and was about to take a cigarette, only to have Mello snatching the packet from under his nose. “…Hey, what the fuck do you…” he began.

Mello held the packet tight in his hands. Matt debated whether it was best to let him finish or to fight for them.

“What, you jealous?” retorted Matt. Truth be told, it was a mixture of both.

“Nah, what am I? A fucking lonely housewife?” was the response. Mello turned his leather clad back.

Matt sighed. “Can I have my cigarettes back, then, please?” he said.

Mello paused, and looked back at him over his shoulder, only the smooth side of his face visible, his blue eye bright. He held up the packet of cigarettes with his other hand and slipped it into his vest. “Oh, you’d like them back, would you?” He turned, his scarred shoulder and face coming into view.

Matt smirked, and ran his eyes down Mello’s throat to his low collar. Before the explosion, Mello’s skin had been tan from his exposure to the LA sun, but since then he had been required to stay inside while he healed. His skin was now as pale as it had been when they had both been children at Wammy’s house. It offered a startling contrast to the black leather he dressed in. And a harsher still contrast to the rough burgundy scar.

“So!?” Mello’s eyes flashed at him. “What do you want, cigarettes or not?”

“I want my cigarettes back, Mello,” said Matt, levelly. Mello tightened his mouth, thinly, and Matt wondered if it sometimes annoyed him that he couldn’t intimidate Matt.

“Well…” Mello smirked, and pushed the packet deeper into his vest, until no part of it was visible. “Ask for it, then?”

“Can I have my cigarettes back, then…?” asked Matt.

Mello shook his head. “No, they’ve disappeared.” He said. “What do you have to ask for before you can ask for your cigarettes?”

“Mello…we need to talk about Misa Amane…” prompted Matt.

“I said what do you ask for?” repeated Mello, his tone hard, and his blue eyes harder.

Matt sighed, again. “Mello, can you take your vest off, please?” he said, finally. He couldn’t disagree that Mello made such a game tempting, although Mello was usually the one so adamant to get things done. He was the one who wanted to tag that Amane woman in the first place.

Mello smirked, his shapely mouth curved into a flirt, rather than the usual threat. He raised one hand to pull down the zip. Matt watched as the pale throat extended to the flat of the breastbone and then down to the navel. He had almost forgotten about the rectangular bump inside the vest. Mello remained unzipped just slightly for a moment.

“You thinking about Amane?” he said, that smirk widening across his face.

“No, I’m thinking about those cigarettes,” Any good Wammy’s kid kept their prime operative in mind at all times. “But she’d look a lot more interesting like that…”

Truth be told, that slither of smooth skin was a little more tempting at that moment than the swell of a feminine bust. But saying that got Mello’s eyes to flash brilliant blue and his mouth to pout and scowl. He was so beautiful when he was annoyed.

“You won’t get your fucking cigarettes back, then,” snapped Mello, before smiling, again, baring his teeth, this time. “Unless you beg for them.”  
Matt sat forward and reached for Mello’s hips. “Take the rest of that bloody jacket off,” he said.

Mello sidestepped his grip. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “If you touch me, you won’t get your cigarettes back. And, I’ll stop.”

Matt appraised him, idly and did not say anything. He waited for Mello to peel off the rest of his vest, only to be caught in that sharp gaze again.

“So…” said the blond.

“So what?”

“Ask me to take it off!” Mello was holding his vest shut, now, as if in protection.

“Mello-can-you-please-take-your-vest-off,” rattled off Matt.

Blank-faced this time, Mello finally divested himself of the well-fitted leather. He was even thinner than usual, and the scar stood out a little bolder when seen in its entirety. It seemed a little crueller like that, even though Matt knew that Mello had as good as inflicted it on himself.

Mello was nothing if not bold-faced, and Matt couldn’t always read the finer nuances of his behaviour, but he searched the blond’s stance for any sort of insecurity. Of course, he was beautiful but the Kira case, the explosion, and Near’s proximity to catching Kira in comparison to his were all taking their toll on him.

“Come here,” said Matt, firmly. Mello kept his still attractively lithe frame just out of reach. Matt stood, only to be pushed down, again.  
“No,” Mello turned his back, his shoulder blades jutting quite painfully. He held up the little white packet of cigarettes and Matt started feeling the familiar burn of a craving, again. Then the pack disappeared somewhere down Mello’s front. “You want your cigarettes, right?”

He turned back around, the cigarettes creating a slightly comical bulge in Mello’s very tight pants. Matt chuckled slightly. Mello glared at him. He’d never been one for a sense of humour concerning himself. Matt found it fun to run his fingers over those buttons, sometimes.

“So, then, what do you want me to do, now?” said Mello, his low voice husky.

Matt placed his finger to his lip in mock thoughtfulness. “Hmm, I think I’d like a beer,” he teased. If he really wanted to get a beer, it would only be so he could watch. It was amazing how he never got bored of what was inside of Mello’s pants. Of course, this meant that his own trousers were a little tight, and the sight of Mello’s sinuous muscles underneath his smooth skin wasn’t helping.

Shouldn’t take him long to get Mello out of everything, though. Usually, even if the blond felt like fucking with him, Mello was usually too urgent to really prolong anything.

“Take off your damn pants, man,” demanded Matt.

Mello moved his hands down to the laces near his crotch and stopped.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think you want me to do that, enough.”

Mello’s fingers played with the laces and Matt squirmed in his seat. Mello was taking an awful long time; he would usually be writhing in Matt’s lap by now.

“I do,” he said, keeping the strain from his voice. “You should…you should take them off.”

Mello hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, revealing his hipbones, slightly, but not the hollow underneath where Matt could press his thumbs and leave bruises to form after he was finished.

“Should I?” he said. It was now apparent that the bulge straining against the laces of Mello’s pants was not just his cigarettes. Matt swallowed.  
“Yes…” he said. “Please take them off, Mello.”

And it happened agonisingly slowly, as Mello pulled the strings open, one by one, until they were loosened. Matt felt his own breathing becoming heavier. Finally, Mello hooked his fingers in the waistband of his pants.

“You know, I might keep them on,” he said.

Matt shook his head. He knew he was playing Mello’s game, but almost painful as it was, he knew the payoff would be brilliant.

“No, Mello…please take them off,” he reiterated.

So Mello dropped them into a leather puddle at his feet. Naked, he was thin, but his wiry muscle hadn’t atrophied much and he had clearly made some effort to stay in good shape, even as the scar healed along his side. He had always had incredible resolve.

Even standing there, it was clear that he had been able to keep away from Matt, even as he was huge and hard and threateningly wet at the tip. Matt fought the urge to lean forward and wrap his fingers around it. He would play Mello’s game. His own arousal was pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his zip.

“Mels,” he said. “Can I touch you?”

Mello put his hands on his bony hips. “No, not yet,” he replied. “But you can beg for me to do other things.”

Matt’s mind ran for a second, and he decided on something more obvious. He looked down at the bulge in his jeans.

“Mello,” he said. Mello turned and even naked, his stance almost radiated overt confidence. There was an ever so slight hunch in his shoulders, however. While Matt couldn’t always tell, that was somewhat more obvious than it had been when he was only half naked. “Can you suck my cock?”

Mello’s eyes glittered, darkly. He bit his lip.

“Is that what you want, Matt?” he said. Then, he held up a small, white cardboard packet. “I thought you wanted these…”

Where he had been keeping them was anyone’s guess. Matt had to admit that a cigarette wouldn’t actually go amiss, either. The throb in his groin was now becoming matched with that familiar ache beneath his breast bone.

“Both. I want both,” he replied. “I mean…can I have both?”

Mello turned and looked over his shoulder, again. Matt’s eyes followed the slim lines of his body, resting momentarily on his rear. Mello’s face was once again turned in a way that hid the scarred side of it. Like that, he might almost pass for a model in a men’s magazine, if it wasn’t for the fact that his scar was still visible along his shoulder and down to his elbow, and the slim, wiry muscle in his limbs. Not to mention the fact that if he turned round, it would be obvious that parts of him were unmistakably male.

“Which is it that you want, Matt?” he said. Matt knew which it was, but the game was too good not to play.

“Cigarettes,” he said. “Please can I have the cigarettes, Mello?”

Mello’s eyes widened, that clear blue turning as sharp as a razor. He tossed the packet at Matt, and turned away, fully. Matt fished a cigarette from the pack and lit it, feeling the craving dissipate in his chest. Dragging on the stick, he observed Mello’s appearance. Some amount of bravado seemed to have disappeared from his frame and his shoulders sagged uncharacteristically.

“Mels?” Matt let out a puff of smoke. Mello did not respond. Matt stared at the blond hair curling at the base of his neck.

“Mello,” he repeated. “Please turn around.”

Mello stretched, the muscles in his back rippling and undulating, but he didn’t turn around.

“Mello,” he said. Mello shot him a glare. “Please, please can you suck my cock.”

It was then that Mello laughed out loud, a sharp, ringing cackle.

“Say it harder, Matt,” he said. “Say you want my lips all around your cock.”

“I want your lips all around my cock,” repeated Matt.

“And?” there was that customary sneer, again.

“And please?” tried Matt. “…Jesus, Mello, it’s not like I’m some kid asking for extra sandwiches. Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

Mello was up in front on him, then, almost pressing against him. That jackal grin started across his face. Matt noticed the blond’s naked penis pressed against his jeans.

“Just makin’ sure you really want it,” he said, before dropping to his knees between Matt’s legs. Matt had almost finished his cigarette, and took the final drags just as Mello’s dextrous fingers pulled down his zipper. Out his cock popped and Matt almost choked on the very last drag as Mello’s warm hand closed around it. And then there was his mouth, his tongue running up the underside and swirling around the head. Matt lit another cigarette with shaking hands as Mello began running that tongue under his foreskin, pushing it down with his fingers. He watched the blond head move between his legs and it wouldn’t have taken him long, but for Mello holding him at the base of his penis just at that crucial moment. He groaned, feeling himself strain and the flow was momentarily halted. Mello’s smirk was particularly devious, then.

“Mello…please,” pleaded Matt.

“Just making sure,” Mello said, his voice low.

And with a swift, saliva slick jerk of his hand, Mello let him come. Matt basked in the afterglow, lolling his head back, cigarette held expertly between his lips. He felt Mello swipe it and take a drag of his own. Matt watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, the smoke billowing back out from between those swollen, still wet lips. It pillowed out, framing his slender form and Matt considered that he’d be ready to go again if he hadn’t just come two seconds ago.

“Are you sure, now?” asked Matt, reaching a hand out to run his fingers down Mello’s torso, just to the left of his scar.

“I am,” replied Mello, taking another drag and moving to straddle Matt’s lap.


End file.
